displacing honesty
by Yui Miyamoto
Summary: Ever wonder what goes through Sakuma Ryuichi’s head during a concert? And is there something that he loves more than music?


Description: Ever wonder what goes through Sakuma Ryuichi's head during a concert? And is there something that he loves more than music?  
  
Disclaimer: Gravitation belongs to Murakami-sensei! PSoH isn't mine.  
  
displacing honesty.  
  
By miyamoto yui  
  
"Finished," the makeup artist said as he left me alone to look at my reflection. It was something he always said to motion me to open my eyes. But Yoshi-san always found it amusing that my childish voice would answer, "Nope, not yet."  
  
He'd laugh and leave me alone to look at the new creation before him.  
  
I didn't though.  
  
Nuriko and Tohma were in their own rooms and I could only wonder about what could be going on while they were dressing up. Noriko could be putting the last minute touches to her lipstick while Tohma would almost always sit in his seat with his arms folded like a little grumpy old man. He'd be perfectly still, but he would be going through the entire list of songs and his finger movements for the notes while sitting alone in his room. That's what he always did when we both shared a dressing room when we first started out.  
  
I swerved my chair to face the opposite of the mirrors before me and got off my seat. I would look around the room and wonder how the hell we got to where were now. I would touch the table in front of me with the tips of my finger and glance at the music sheets, but they were just there for show.  
  
Sakano had seen me before. He was almost appalled at how much time I had wasted by not preparing until I looked at him.  
  
He didn't know me, though.   
  
These self-doubts would come to creep inside of my heart like they always had. I would always feel like these people who had set their confidence in me were just sponsoring someone who was deceiving them. I probably didn't have talent at all.  
  
I didn't even know how to make a melody until I met Tohma. The only thing I knew was to sing and sing, and even that was hard in itself. He told me that I just had to do what I needed.  
  
What could I do about lyrics? Write poems. Write all the poems that I wanted and needed.  
  
I wasn't good with talking to people so I wrote and wrote lyrics with no melody.  
  
If I stayed away, maybe they wouldn't hurt me. Maybe I wouldn't hurt them with my stupidity.  
  
What the hell did they see that I couldn't?  
  
It was then I paced about the room, walking back and forth. Touching the fabrics of a lot of costumes that had been custom-made for me. The bunny suit, the j-rock vinyl outfit, etc.  
  
All I knew was that I loved music and it couldn't protest to my love. I would take it into my hands with the mounds of papers and crumpled sheets. I would drink it when I would close my eyes to think what the hell did I want to write about.  
  
What was the emotion I wanted my audience to feel?  
  
I would rape music when I would touch the microphone stand and pretend to kiss it while seducing it with my words.  
  
Singing was my obsession…  
  
…and I would crawl and beg like a slave to do it.  
  
I then went back to my seat and put on my headphones. Crossing my legs, I closed my eyes and listened to the song before me.  
  
They think it's amazing for me not to practice very much, but they don't know that I train at home each day looking at the mirror. Holding my hands out to someone invisible to hold me back.  
  
The nervous, genki half melted away and was transformed temporarily.  
  
I finally opened my eyes to the mirror to see myself.  
  
I saw someone who was acting in a play, wearing many outfits and delivering his lines. I was an actor and they were my audience. They watched my every move and adored me or hated me for it.  
  
But they're all a part of me. All the sides I couldn't show all at the same time.  
  
I saw my eyes and I was determined.  
  
This is the only thing I know.  
  
This is the only thing I am confident about.  
  
I got up and walked out the door to go and give them what they want. I was like the exotic animals, each different and interesting each time you seem them, from that manga 'Pet Shop of Horrors' in which you'd become entranced by what I'd have to do for you.   
  
I was a geisha that performs her talent for you. Giving you confusion on whether this was fiction or reality…  
  
As I walked onto the stage, I glanced at the roaring public as the lights blinded me.  
  
No matter how much I do this, they will only see different sides that I've manipulated before them because this was the only way I could be honest. No matter how many times I've done this, I will still feel like it's the first time I've done it.  
  
Everything's wiped clean.  
  
I took the microphone into my hands and tapped my feet while smirking at the audience.  
  
As I began singing, I held out my hand to the crowd and smiled.  
  
I'm not telling you I'm the best, but I'm pretending that I am.  
  
Turning and gazing at the crowd, I leaned forward to show them my face. One of the masks that I will wear tonight.  
  
I'm not telling you that this is work. I'm showing you that this is fun.  
  
Glazing my eyes over the crowd, I'm still looking for something or someone to fulfill my intense desires. And singing is the only thing that can quench my undying thirst.  
  
I'm not showing you my infatuation.  
  
I'm only sincere in the emotion I show singing because I sometimes I'm afraid that I'm only human with a human heart.   
  
It was then that I glanced at the handsome boy's face. The fan that didn't know I looked for him every time I fell asleep at night. Those eyes looking at me not knowing how much it ached in my heart not being able to touch him.  
  
The one that wrote an anonymous note to me, but didn't leave a signature. Only Tohma had been the one to track him down because he recognized the handwriting of his close friend's little brother.  
  
You understand.  
  
You're the only one who understands me, but I cannot say anything about it to you. This is only a crush for you since I'm just someone you look at and listen to each day. Someday, you'll forget me and I won't be able to stop that.  
  
I closed my eyes, in sync with the pain of the song, as I thought of this horrible fact. I love you despite the fact that I shouldn't.   
  
And more than music.  
  
With all my honesty displacing my inhibitions, I looked straight into his eyes and held my hands out to him. Now, with music, I can camouflage myself to you. Through it, I can show you how I've truly been suffering without you.  
  
I sang,   
  
"I'm showing you my obsessive love."  
  
Owari.  
  
--  
  
Author's note: I just thought about doing this because I wanted to convey Ryuichi's passion for music. And the thoughts that can possibly go through a singer's mind. I like it, but I hope I pulled it off well.  
  
I know it is a strange fic in a way, but I really love it. 


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